Brave Heart
by ReidFan24-7
Summary: The BAU team had always relied on fact, intellect, and reasoning. But when the jet crashes and the team is left stranded, injured, and alone, a miracle seems to be all they need. Not death fic, or slash
1. What Was Never Anticipated

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters.

**Warning: **Language, somewhat frightening events, and bad comedy

**Authors Note: **This chapter is meant to be _mostly(mostly) _light hearted and happy and portrays certain charters in an almost childish way. These characteristics will not define them over the whole course of the story. Later chapters will be quite different. Otherwise, please review and enjoy!

**Summary: **They didn't believe in miracles. They didn't believe in luck. But when the BAU jet goes down and the team is left stranded in the middle of nowhere, a miracle seems to be all they have to hold on to.

"In just moments life can change into an existence we don't recognize. Into a place we don't understand. There is no pause button, there is no undo. We cannot change what life chooses to confront us with. "- Anonymous

_Everywhere he saw fire. Yellow orange tendrils of flames clawing through the cabin like fingers, consuming everything in sight. A piercing sound erupted in the background, forcing him to his knees. A scream? He didn't know. He saw nothing but the flames that encircled him. There were voices. Cries. Shrieks. He recognized them as his friends, but couldn't distinguish who they belonged to. The smell of death, decaying burning flesh. Carnage. His mind was spinning; the world around him was becoming a bright, burning blur of incoherent shapes and colors. His mind succumbing to the anguish and realization that was his fate. The flames, heat and pain radiating from their fire. There brightness only reminding him of the darkness he would soon be consumed in. He watched petrified; his life lessoning with each passing second._

_He was alone, confused. But above all, he was terrified._

_The fear of knowing this was his end, of not knowing what was happening. The pain. The sharp, immense pain that filled his body, mind, and soul. The agony that was only increasing._

_He wanted nothing more then to cry out. To run and escape. But he was silent. And he remained still._

_ Paralyzed, as he comprehended and witnessed the slow progression of his inevitable death._

**8:00 AM: 10 Hours Before**

"Hey Pretty boy! How are you doing on this fine morning?" Asked the one and only Derek Morgan, as he entered the Bureau's small kitchenette and located Reid.

With a sigh the young agent turned and looked at his friend with a weary expression. "Pretty boy? Really? Your doing that again?"

"Oh come one. You know you love it," Morgan teased, walking beside his friend to pour himself a cup of coffee. "How can I not call out such an adorable looking face?"

Reid gave Derek an exasperated look. Morgan always managed to get away with things. But not this time.

"One day, Derek Morgan." He said, narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his forehead as he attempted to to give his words a more dramatic feel. "One day." He gave Morgan a long hard look and tried to exit dramatically like he had seen on one of those Twilight movies JJ had made him watch. That really stealthy guy, Edward, always managed to leave in such a riveting fashion. However, seeing as he didn't have the agility of a full fledged vampire his foot caught on the edge of the door and young Dr. Reid fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. He landed with an "OMPFT"

Laughter erupted from behind him as Morgan walked up to his fallen friend. "Dude!" he said between fits of laughter. "What were you trying to do there? Really? What was that?" He made little attempt to help him up as he was more focused on clutching his now aching stomach.

"Damn it!" Reid yelled, as he pushed himself to his feet. That was not how he had anticipated that happening. But like the stealth king he was he had fallen on is face, or course in front of Morgan, and had spilled his cup of coffee all over his clothes. With Morgan still laughing and gasping for breath, Reid walked out of the kitchenette. On exiting he grumbled, "Stupid Twilight. _Stupid Edward."_

After putting on a fresh set of clothing Reid grabbed a new cup of coffee, noticeably sidestepped the door frame, and made his way over to his desk. Since the team wasn't busied with a case they were supplied with bounds of paper work that Strauss felt it necessary to finish before days end. To make it all the better, Reid could see the evident difference between his paper stack and Morgan's, who had about one third the amount he did. Lovely.

He took a seat, and brushed the lingering piece of hair that was resting on his forehead out of his face. _Alright Morgan, it's on, _he thought, as he opened his first file.

Derek couldn't help but notice how fast Reid's stack of files was declining. The kid had literally walked in ten minutes ago with at least 50 files on his desk, and now he was down to half of that. Derek looked at his own pile and groaned. There was still about 20 files there and even after "loosing" about 10 of them, he still had a lot of work to do. Again his eyes drifted over to the kid and he couldn't help but watch the genius as he plowed through another 3 in under five minutes. His face holding a look of intense focus and concentration.

_Kid better not push to hard, _Morgan thought with a smile. _He might just end up doing more then thinking. _He leaned back and watched his friend finish the remainder of his files within the next few minutes.

**9:30 AM: 8 Hours and 30 Minutes Before**

"Done! And in record time!"

"Yeah, 20 files in 1 hour and 30 minutes. Very impressive Morgan," Reid said sarcastically, smirking at his friend. He had finished his stack much quicker; 25 minutes and 34 seconds to be exact, but who's keeping tract? To be honest, when Morgan had gotten up to go to the bathroom, he had taken a couple out of his pile, completed them, and replaced them before he had comeback, just to help him out. But he didn't need to tell Morgan that. _The things I do for my friends..._

"Well we can't all be as smart as you," He retorted, returning a grin. Their friendly banter taking his mind off all the work he had just finished.

Reid pulled his head back and rested his blue converse sneakers on his desk. A mock position of relaxation. "Well being the resident genius does have to have some perks. Am I right?" He saw Morgan scowl and continued, " Oh wait, scratch that, I'm always right."

"You know Reid, cocky doesn't look good on you," A voice from behind him made him jump, jolting him out of his chair, yet again.

"Man, why does this keep happening," He grumbled, pushing himself to his feet and ignoring the wisps of laughter that was coming from Morgan. He turned to see Emily and JJ grinning behind him. He felt his face grow red with embarrassment.

"Uhh hey." Reid pulled himself inward trying to escape the girls stares and Morgan's persistent laughter. Was this his punishment for having a little fun? Geez tough crowd.

Emily chuckled softly as JJ continued, "Alright you too had your fun. Now get your butts up. We have a case."

**12:00 PM: 6 Hours Before**

"Why did that have to take so long?" Morgan whined. "How does it take 2 hours and 30 minutes to explain that there is an unsub in Alaska, that targets brunette, every monday. And that we need to catch him. See done! Am I missing something?"

"Coco baby, I'll help you find what your missing, as long as it's just you and me," Garcia courted, giving Morgan a sly grin in her usual joking way. She gave the rest of the group: Reid, Prentiss, and JJ, a mysterious look.

"PG guys! Keep it PG," JJ laughed her hands held up in front of her as if warning of their profanity. They all merely laughed.

Seeing as Morgan could never dismiss Garcia's adorable attempts to cheer him up, he responded, "Baby girl you know nothings missing when I got you around." He flashed her a smile, chuckling when she blew him a kiss.

"I won't forget you chocolate thunder," Garcia winked and began heading toward her lair, waiting to again be summoned by the team. Morgan couldn't help but watch her walk away until he couldn't see her any more. Shaking his head he whispered to himself, "Man you gotta love that woman."

**2:30 PM: 3 Hours and 30 Minutes Before**

"What do you want? Lunch is on me."

"What's the catch? You gonna put laxatives in my sandwich again? Cause that wasn't cool."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh wait that wasn't you...Grilled Chicken please!"

"Nah nah nah when did that happen?"

"Kid it was a dream. Just get me some food!"

"No! Tell me what happened or I swear I will tell Hotch about that-"

"Okokokok! Geez don't have to be nasty about it. Like where are your manners. Like this is so-"

"Morgan! Quit stalling!"

"Ummm, someone gave me a sandwich and there were laxatives inside. End of story."

"What happened?"

What do you think happened?"

"Seeing as the normal human response t-"

"Oh hey we have to order! What a shame! Mrs. I will have the deluxe chicken sandwich, with a large coffee. For my friend, the kids meal perhaps?"

"Will that be all?" The cashier inquired. "We have a special today. Buy one large cup of coffee, get another half price. Are you interested?"

"Yeah actu-"

"Nope! That will be all!"

"WA-"

"And you can charge that to a Dr. Spencer Reid thank you very much!"

"Dude?! Not cool!"

"Yeah well you should' have asked me about laxatives. They bring me to a dark time."

"Dark time? What does that even mean?"

"It means that-Oh hey look your kiddy meal is ready!"

"Morgan!"

"And my deluxe chicken salad. My Large coffee! Mmmmm!"

"Really?"

"Hey don't be down. That tiny burger and that one fry looks super good!" Morgan gestured inside the small box, with a grin. "Hey there's even a toy!"

**4:00: 1 Hour Before**

The whole team was sitting on the jet preparing for take off. Mike, the pilot, had informed them that there would be a slight delay as one of the computers was malfunctioning slightly. The team hadn't thought much of it, seeing as they had flown on this plane countless times before, and it had always made the journey. The old girl, the plane, was indestructible.

JJ and Emily had erupted into immediate conversation at the mention of the delay, and were maximizing the amount of time they had to discuss some personal matters. Rossi and Hotch too had begun conversing, but about the case. Reid and Morgan on the other hand were discreetly trying to listen to the pilot from inside the cockpit. His voice was muffled, but distinct.

"Damn thing! What are you...out?" _BANG BANG BANG _"Betty-_who's Betty?_ Reid thought-you...st..work! _BANG _Good girl!"

Morgan leaned in and whispered to Reid, "Dude I think he's crazy." He used his head to gesture towards the still unlatched door. "There's still time to escape."

"That is a strange way to fix a malfunctioning computer," Reid inquired. "Is this plane even safe?" Just when the two agents were about to inform the team of their discoveries and plan, the cockpit door opened and Mike stepped out. Short, stocky, sweaty Mike. His face was a bright reddish pink and his sparse brown hair was matted to his crinkled forehead. He resembled Santa Clause in a strange sort of way. Morgan shivered at the thought. Mike lifted his arm to give the team a big thumbs up, revealing an elongated stain under the armpit of his baby blue T-shirt. Through hitched breaths he exclaimed, "Betty's up and running! It is my professional opinion that we are okay to fly. Get ready for take off!" Mike gave them a make shift solute, revealing more of his sweat stained T-Shirt and reentered the cock pit without another word.

"Expert opinion," Rossi mused, his lips pursed.

"Who's Betty?" Prentiss questioned, confused.

"Morgan, the man just fixed his computer by banging on it. He didn't lock the door yet-Wait he didn't lock the door! We can-" Reid's whispered voice was cut off by the reappearance of Mike.

"Almost forgot!" He explained, as he pulled the door shut and put the hatch in place.

"Almost forgot!?" Morgan repeated quietly, a horrified expression filling his face. "Who even hired this guy?" Reid shook his head and looked at his best friend, his brother, with wide eye's. An unspoken communication happened there as they both receive the message each was trying to send to the other.

Morgan: _How cool would it be to just open that door and jump out._

Reid: _You are such an idiot sometimes._

Wait?

But their unreceptive thoughts were interrupted by the drone of the engine and the jolly voice of Mike over the speakers, "Fasten your seat belts folks! This is gonna be a bumpy ride!"

What an understatement.

**5:00: Time**

Reid and Morgan were both strapped into their seat tighter then a caterpillar in a cocoon. Both men, more like kids, clung to their armrest for dear life and had their eyes squeezed shut. The rest of the team had made fun of the position and had mocked them. But with each bump and spike of turbulence the plane encountered they were beginning to eat their words and tighten their seatbelt just a little bit. Not like they were worried or anything.

"Guys you can open your eyes. This is the same as any other flight," JJ coaxed, looking at the two men with a small grin. Her voice had interrupted the deep silence that had encumbered them, making the team turn their attention to the two very tense agents.

"You guys are FBI agent's. We catch murders and serial killers for a living. Are you seriously more afraid of a few bumps than unsubs?" Emily posed the question, giving her seatbelt a subtle tug. She looked around at the others, relieved that they hadn't noticed.

In unison, "Very."

"Well there is a first time fo-" Rossi was cut off as the plane hit another bump. The impact making each agent jolt in their seat. The plane rocked and pulsed for a few seconds before calming.

"Son of a Bitch," Hotch said. "Everyone, stop making fun of those two and tighten your seatbelt." Each agent, aside from Morgan and Reid, did as they were instructed. A few seconds after the command the plane hit more turbulence.

JJ peered out her window, when the plane stopped shaking, "It's not even stormy. What's making the plane act this way?" Hotch tilted his head in confusion, and follow her gaze out the window. She was right, the sky was calm. The plane had no reason to be acting this way. Sudden realization struck the team, but before Hotch could voice a question, Mikes voice blared over the speakers: "We are experiencing some technical difficulties. Betty se-" He didn't get a chance to finish. Instead a loud high blood churning screech echoed though the cabin. A wail. An intense cry of agony and desperation. Mike.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Hotch yelled. His protective instincts told him to jump out of his seat. But he didn't get a chance to comply as again the plane lurched and was hit with another strong wave of turbulence.

"Don't get out of your seat!" Rossi yelled over the noise, knowing quite well what his superior had planned on doing. The wail continued to pierce their ears. The agony entwined inside the sound made their hearts seize. From where they were sitting they were to far away to access the cockpit. However, there was another solution.

Having to shriek over the noise, Rossi voiced, "REID! CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING FROM WHERE YOU ARE?!"

Reid, who was sitting the closest to the cockpit (of course), opened his eye to his dismay. Despite his terror he did as Rossi said and looked down the small tunnel that was the front of the plane. He was terrified at what he saw.

"FIRE!" He shrieked over the cries and drone of the plane. His internal autopilot seemed to kick in, for Reid would have not done what he had did if it hadn't, and he jumped out of his seat. He heard his friends crying out to him. Demanding, begging him to return to his seat. He ignored them and found stregth, from somewhere deep inside himself he had never known, to walk to the cabin and open the door.

And in that moment everything changed.

Everywhere he saw fire. Yellow orange tendrils of flames clawing through the cabin like fingers, consuming everything in sight. A piercing sound erupted in the background, forcing him to his knees. A scream? He didn't know. He saw nothing but the flames that encircled him. There were voices. Cries. Shrieks. He recognized them as his friends, but couldn't distinguish who they belonged to. The smell of death, decaying burning flesh. Carnage. His mind was spinning; the world around him was becoming a bright, burning blur of incoherent shapes and colors. His mind succumbing to the anguish and realization that was his fate. The flames, heat and pain radiating from their fire. There brightness only reminding him of the darkness he would soon be consumed in. He watched petrified; his life lessoning with each passing second.

He was alone, confused. But above all, he was terrified.

The fear of knowing this was his end, of not knowing what was happening. The pain. The sharp, immense pain that filled his body, mind, and soul. The agony that was only increasing.

He wanted nothing more then to cry out. To run and escape. But he was silent. And he remained still.

Paralyzed, as he comprehended and witnessed the slow progression of his inevitable death.

**Please tell me what you think. Feedback helps.**

**Thank you for reading. **


	2. The End?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal Minds or any of it's characters.

**Authors Note: **From here on out things get much more serious. Hopefully, like the summary claims, suspenseful and angst (I'm still not quite sure what that means 'angst' but I hope my story qualifies).

**Warning: **Language. Graphic imaging and descriptions.*Not death fix* Don't read if can't handle.

**Previously: **He wanted nothing more then to cry out. To run and escape. But he was silent. And he remained still. Paralyzed, as he comprehended and witnessed the slow progression of his inevitable death.

"The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity"-Lucius Annaeus Seneca

...

Was this his end? After everything that he had fought to accomplish, every hardship that he was forced to face, was he destined to die like this?

Reid's mind was spinning and his pounding heart threatened to burst through his chest. He didn't want to die. Not like this anyway, standing in wait for the flames to consume and burn him alive. He didn't deserve to die like this.

All his life he had scarified, all his life he had always cared for others, all his life he had done his best to help people. Putting his life on the line to save others. This wasn't fair.

His thinking was becoming irrational. He wasn't sure when the change had occurred, but as he felt his life slipping away with each second he felt his mind go along with it. There was no way out. He wouldn't die. They all would.

"REID?!"

The mention of his name brought him out of his mind and pulled just a bit closer to the brinks of reality. Through the drone of the failing engines, and the loud ear piercing screech he didn't know of the source, he recognized the voice as Morgans. Morgan, somewhere on the other side of the wall of flames. Somewhere he couldn't get to. But still not gone.

"REID CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" His nervous, and terrified voice called to him again. It took him awhile to comprehend that he had been asked a question. He searched his brain, looking for the intelligence it had always had, which he hoped was still there. Though his voice felt dry, his body weak pained and afraid, he yelled back, "IM HERE!"

"ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"No," He whispered, far too quite for Morgan to hear. "Im not." He wanted everything to end, to be okay. He didn't want to dwell on his future, he didn't want to know of what had come to be of Mike. Mike. Despite himself he looked back into the cockpit, looking for any sort of clue to what happened to the man. The bright lights and the scorching heat that radiated from the flames, prolonged his search but did not stop him from the .

"Oh God!" Reid whispered his eyes fixated on the pilot. The man now an ashy and crimson skeleton. The skin all but burned away aside from the small pieces that lingered and continued to bubble and pop from the heat. The fire. The scream. Mike had been burned alive. Reid felt tears roll down his face, felt his mind collapse, his brain choke. He couldn't move, his body becoming paralyzed once again. He couldn't help but gawk at the man's molted face. The mixture of melted excreta of crimson flesh and blood. The molted mess that had become of his eyes. The darkness that had overtaken him.

The world around him was slipping away. He felt his body shift uncontrollably under him, causing him to stumble to close to the flames. "Ahhhh!" He screeched as a tendril licked his arm, the skin beginning to bubble and boil over from the heat. Soon looking similar to Mike's. He wanted it to end. He wanted to fall unconscious and let the sweet release of darkness consume him. To rescue him from all this agony. To end it, alive or dead.

"REID?!" Somewhere he heard someone calling his name. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside and let the blackness consume him, but it came once again. And again. Until he couldn't ignore it and was forced to once again comply.

"KID WHATS GOING ON?!" Morgan. "REID! ANSWER ME!?" What even was going on? The fire, how had it started. He tried to think, forcing his mind to push past it's confusion and recount the events of before. What had he seen? The banning, the computer. This was a mechanical fire. Mike had been wrong: the plane obviously wasn't safe and they were about to go down.

"THE COMPUTER SHORTED OUT! IT CAUSED A FIRE!" Reid yelled in response, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. "MORGAN?! WE ARE GOING TO CRASH!"

Silence from his friend. Was he even there? Was he even alive?

"REID! JUMP THROUGH THE FIRE!" The voice was deeper and the tone was more controlled. Hotch?

"WHAT!? ARE YO-"

"DAMN IT REID! JUST DO IT!" Reid knew that realistically this was his only chance. In his current position, he would only last for another minute or so before the fire reached him. Before he would die. He peered toward the flame wall that separated him from his friends, and knew it was his only option. He could either die alone, or in the company of his family. Either way his fate was sealed, he just had to make a decision.

He inched forward to the bright burning barrier, as he made his choice. Too close as the fire burned his arm again. He yelled in pain, but did not move form his fixed position. He took a deep breath, one that filled his lungs with black smoke and made him chock.

He looked around desperately

"REID?!" He heard the cry again, but couldn't react because at that moment the plane lurched forward and his body was thrown into the fire.

...

Morgan could't comprehend what was happening around him. One minute his friends were making fun of him and Reid for being afraid of flying, and the next minute Reid was gone and the cabin had erupted in fire. He jumped to his feet, his scared childish attitude from before being replaced with the brave, bad ass he was underneath, and had attempt to go after his friend, who had just rushed into the now enflamed cockpit in search of Mike. The two men now separated by a wall of heat. He could not get to him.

"REID?!" Morgan yelled, the fear evident. He couldn't loose his brother. Not like this. "REID?!" He yelled again. And again. Each time never getting a response. From behind him, Morgan could hear the rest of the team. Their shocked, hurt, frightened, pleading cries. He ignored them, and prepared to jump into the fire to save his friend. Willing to do anything for his brother.

"IM HERE!" Responded a hoarse and course cry.

The response had stopped the man in his tracks. Reid? He knew it was.

"KID WHATS GOING ON!?" He got no response. The terror continued to raise in his chest and made his heart race. "REID! ANSWER ME?!" He waited, straining to hear any indication that his friend was alive. But Reid was silent.

Hotch called Morgan from behind, bringing him out of his now paralyzed state. He was moving to push himself out of his seat. A slow and difficult job considering the rocky and turbulent movements of the jet. He wanted the man to stay seated, to stay safe, but arguing would be pointless given their current situation. His thoughts were cut off though.

"THE COMPUTER SHORTED OUT! IT CAUSED THE FIRE!"

_Oh thank God, _Morgan thought. Reid was still alive.

"MORGAN!?"

"REID! JUMP THROUGH THE FIRE!" Hotch cried. It his only way. The plane was going to go down soon, if they didn't get Reid buckled in and somewhat secure the chance of survival was virtually nothing.

"WHAT!? ARE YO-"

He didn't have time for this. Morgan knew that this was Reid's only chance.

"DAMN IT REID! JUST DO IT!" He prayed to God that his friend would listen. That he would jump through the fire, be fine, and get buckled in his seat before they went down. Seconds ticked by, and still nothing.

"REID?!" This time it was Hotch's voice. But before any of them could properly react, the plane lurched forward and Dr. Reid fell through the flames.

* * *

With no means to control the jet, the plane jerked and twitted uncontrollably as it began to dip. Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss were buckled in their seats and didn't feet the full effect like the others did.

Reid had fallen through the fire wall, was currently on fire, and had landed on top of Morgan and Hotch, who were now trying to put the young man out, despite the struggle.

"Everyone stay in your seats!" Hotch ordered, as he tried to smother the flames that persisted against them. Reid all the while shrieking and quivering underneath.

Eventually they did manage to put them out, but Reid would be far from okay. And feeling as the plane had started to nose dive downward Morgan and Hotch forced Reid into a nearby seat and strapped him in, along with themselves. From that moment on, they would have no control over what happened. The team, the family, clung to their seas for dear life and waited for the end.

"SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE!" The last words of David Rossi.

"WE ARE NOT GOING TO DIE!" Hotch.

"I LOVE YOU GUYS!" It was JJ.

Deep down they all knew this was it, this was their end. The plane had tipped downward and was making a speeded decent toward the inevitable, they had no means of changing that. They would die, it was only a matter of time.

The earth was coming into view, the clearly of the features down below capable of being distinguished. The realization of their faith certain.

Everything was suddenly in slow motion. Though the team, the family, knew of their faith, they would not die alone. They were together, and for that they were thankful.

With one last look the team closed their eyes, clung to their seats. Waiting for the end.

The plane crashed and everything went black.


	3. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal Minds

**Warning: **Some graphic descriptions and disturbing events

**Authors Note: **I would just like to mention that this is not a death fic. Crazy irrationally dangerous things will happen to the team in the story, but I must confess I always like a happy ending. No one is going to die. Also, in this story the break in the story below, separates the thoughts of two different characters, in case that is confusing for anyone when reading. But enough said.

Other then that, hope that you enjoy. If you have any comments please review! Feed back is always good. Thank you for reading!

**Previously: **Everything was suddenly in slow motion. Though the team, the family, knew of their faith, they would not die alone. They were together, and for that they were one last look the team closed their eyes, clung to their seats. Waiting for the end. The plane crashed and everything went black.

"Survival can be summed up in three words - never give up. That's the heart of it really. Just keep trying."-Bear Grylls

...

Reid

He woke up to the sound of thudding. A small, _Bum-bum, Bum-bum, Bum-bum. _The soft, quickening repetitive thuds that gave him just the slightest bit of reassurance. The feeling of his heart beating, the feeling of being alive.

Was it even possible? What had even happened? His mind was cloudy, unable to grasp enough of the past to recall previous events. He couldn't. All he knew was that in some crazy way, for some crazy reason, he had survived.

Around him he was vaguely aware of his surroundings. His eyes still tightly shut. He felt wet. A warm sticky substance layered his body like a gooey blanket. Blood. The stench of rotting, decaying flesh wafted through the air making his each intake of breath stunted and gasped. Breathing. The agony that it caused. There was pain, unimaginable stifling pain. Like his insides were being torn out of his body, bit by bit. Like every inch of him was saturated in acid.

He knew something wasn't right, seeing as how every gasp, every twitch left him in agony. There was something lodged in his stomach, something sharp, cold. His suffering only increasing with each passing second.

His mind was beginning to fully shake the darkness that had held him so recently. Each moment of clarity, an eternity of torment. It was then that he knew he wouldn't survive.

Trying to ignore the pain, the realization of his possible end, he escaped to his mind. Trying to find a distraction. Anything that would allow him the simplest release. But all he had were unanswered questions, and the frustration was building.

What was happening? What even caused this? He struggled with each thought, his mind refusing to comprehend. The stain must have been too much for his body to handle, fore his thinking ceased and he was swallowed by his unconscious mind once again.

* * *

He didn't want to open his eyes. He was afraid.

His mind returned to the crash in his solace. Remembering the faces of his team, the heartbroken and defeated looks they had all shared; the way they had committed to death, expected it to come and take them, together. He had excepted his fate, fore he knew it was a demise he couldn't change. He had accepted it. But it was different now. The plane had crashed, and for some strange, twisted reason he had survived.

The question that persisted to torment him: did the others survive as well?

His life had always revolved around structure. He had always proved to be the one who remained strong, kept a cool head and stayed in control. But now he felt as if his world had shattered, his strength sucked away and lost in oblivion. His structure had all but died in the plane crash. He couldn't keep himself from tears as he had lost all control in his grief.

Did they make it? The question kept returning, and an over bearing weight hung on his heart, threatening to crush it at any second. Part of him wanted to know the truth desperately. Maybe they had survived. Maybe they were all alive, and okay. Maybe when he opened his eyes everything would return to how it had always been and he would have nothing to worry about.

He knew he was lying to himself. He couldn't hide form the truth forever. Eventually he was going to have to face it, whether it be release or pain. But the truth of the matter was, he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't want to open his eyes and see the horror that lay ahead, and then know that it was all his fault.

It was, wasn't it?

He had been the one who had overlooked the minor details and had rushed the team to the newest case. He had known that the jet had been malfunctioning lately but had written it off as a minor problem, seeing as the old girl had always proved faithful. He had known the original pilot had been out sick for weeks, but had insisted he come and fly them out. He had known. Know it all. Why had he ignored it?

He knew the truth. He knew the reason why he had been acting so different, so distant. Though he hid it well from the team, he couldn't hide it from himself. No matter how hard he tried.

Those thoughts were becoming to much for him, and he tried to evade them. He tried to forget those thoughts, all the reasons he was feeling so changed, so empty and forced them down. He would be strong again, he would make things right again. He would save his team, or what was left of them.

He opened his eyes.

What had he expected to see? Ash, blood. Carnage. His friends? None of those came into view, and his eyes where left to focus on the deep golden back of an airplane seat that was resting directly in front of his face.

He tried to move. Big mistake. His body throbbed, and quivered with the movement. The pain that shot through him was excruciating. Like being electrocuted over and over agin. He felt his conscious mind begin to slip into the void but desperately tried to cling to reality. He tried to have strength, enough to fight through the pain and to face whatever lay ahead. The hope that maybe they had also survived, and his family was okay. Hope, not rational. Maybe not even possible. But hope nonetheless.

He cocked his head, trying to maneuver in a way that would allow him a view of his surroundings. But he couldn't. His body seemed to be wedged and covered in a tight forgotten space, and his view remained obstructed. He tried to move his fingers, toes, arms, legs and though rivets of pain shot through his body with every motion, none were broken and he continued trying to get free. He pushed against his captor, the large golden airplane seat, and unstrapped the seatbelt that hugged his waist. Then when he found himself with enough room, he worked to get out from under the pile. The process was slow, each movement sending more shots of agony through his body. But eventually he got free. Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet.

He closed his eyes, as he stood. The fear and anticipation making his heart race uncontrollably in his chest. Taking deep steadying breaths, that only pained him further, he gathered enough courage to open hie eyes. He looked around, but he wasn't really seeing. His now disoriented mind filling with memories of the past. The fire. His team. The crash. He became aware of his condition and without glancing around him allowed his eye to fall on his own form. Aside from the few scratched, gashes, and bruises, he was fine. And he was on his own two feet to prove it. How had he survived? _The fricken plane just crashed! _Now he just needed to see if he was the only one. Somewhere inside he found enough courage to look up and gaze around the plane.

"Oh my God." What he saw sent the tears rolling down his face in a torrent. His hands flew to his head, sending rivets of agony down his battered body, and grabbed his short locks with trembling fingers. His body shaking, his knees threatening to buckle from beneath him. The stabbing pain in his heart that repeated with every beat. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be.

Around him, desecration. A world unknown to him. The dented walls of the plan altered black and grey from the flames that burned their characteristics away. Seats, tables, papers...Morgans MP3 and headphone set...-his breath hitched at the sight- thrown in the mix, all reduced to useless debris. A mixture of stomach acid, ash and blood, littering the floor and depriving every inch cleanliness. His eyes drifted to the cockpit, located the previous form of Mike. The desecrated body of the pilot sent a sick and revolting stench through the air. His reminds an un passable sight; the remnants of burt skin, littered with boils and pustules, clinging uselessly to his now decaying form. His form now reduced to a charcoal skeleton, whose dark and hallow eyes still seemed to be alive. An utter, horrifying mess. His body convulsed at the sight. A loud sob caught in his throat.

He closed his eyes once more, working to gain control. Once he opened them again, he forced himself to focus on the debris, the horrid mess of the plane, and look for his friends. He took a deep breath and began the search.

It didn't take long for him to find someone, to locate the extremity that could be the limb of his either alive, or dead friend. He moved in close, and viewed the persons face with astonished horror.

Emily.

Lying in a crumpled mess was Emily. The beautiful profile's face littered with bright, deep bruises. Her dark hair sticking to her battered face from the blood that matter her skin and blanketed her. Her left arm contorted in an unnatural position, her fingers tinting blue. A large bloody gash cut deep in her abdomen.

Horrified but relieved he was, fore, though she had many injuries he could see the small movements of her chest as it rose and fell with every breath. She was still alive, so she could be saved.

"Emily," He said, simultaneously working to clear the debris that covered his. She didn't respond. "Emily!" He said it again, this time more forcefully, as if his tone could invade her unconscious mind. She stirred as a result. He continued this system for a while. Working to clear the debris while saying her name every so often, hoping to awaken her. It was a long and tiring.

After what seemed like an eternity, she was finally clear. He sat by her side and touched his corse hand to her battered face. She shifted under his touch. There was a sharp intake of breath, and he watched unmoving as Emily's eyes fluttered open.

"Emily?" He said it again, this time in a gentle, calm tone. Soothing almost. From where this control had come from, he did not know. Her glassy eyes settled on his worn face. Her breathing persisted to be remind silent and her eyes remained unfocused.

"Emily." The reoccurrence of his voice seemed to bring her out of her transfixed state. She blinked, then gazed up at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Hotch?" It was weak, a croak of a noise. But nonetheless it was her voice, and weak or not, it gave him hope.

He allowed himself a small smile, a single tear of joy escaped his eye, "Yeah Emily, it's me."

She took a second to swallow and took a deep, painful, breath, "The plane, it crashed and the pilot. And...oh my God- Reid? What happened?" Her face mirrored his own as the tears began to fall from her eyes. She let out a long shuttered sigh, her face now contorted in a look of agony. "Are they alive?"

Hotch himself took a shuttered breath. The pain or the fear, which he was not sure of, causing it. "You're the first one that I've found. I don't know if the others..." He let his voice trail off, not needed to finish the thought. They both knew what he would have said.

"Then we better find them," Emily said curtly, her eyes now fixed with determination. She seemed to attempt to push herself into a sitting position, but the effort was lost as he let out a shrill scream of agony, dropping back to her previous position.

"Don't move. You have a dislocated shoulder and from what I can tell your hand isn't getting any blood flow. You also have a deep cut in your stomach. I can relocate your shoulder as well as clean the wound but until I do you are not to move. Is that clear?" From somewhere inside him, Hotch found the part of him he had always been. A leader.

Emily seemed to grimace in pain at the thought of Hotch manhandling her shoulder, but managed a weak smile, "Yes sir." Hotch pushed himself to his feet and began making his way to the back of the plan, in search of medical supplies. He gave Emily a quick look before he dwelt any further. Her being alive, her being with him, gave him just the slightest bit of hope.

"So I'll just wait here then." Emily called after him. Hotch smiled.


	4. Complications

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal Minds

**Warning: **Disturbing events

**Authors Note: **Thank you to those who reviewed and read my story! I really appreciate it! Reviews really help motivate and I know this sounds like a broken record but after reading this story see if you can tell me what you think. Feedback good or bad is better then no feedback at all. Especially if I plan on getting any better. But otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

**Previously: **Emily seemed to grimace in pain at the thought of Hotch manhandling her shoulder, but managed a weak smile, "Yes sir." Hotch pushed himself to his feet and began making his way to the back of the plan, in search of medical supplies. He gave Emily a quick look before he dwelt any further. Her being alive, her being with him, gave him just the slightest bit of hope. "So I'll just wait here then." Emily called after him. Hotch smiled.

"Life comes from physical survival; but the good life comes from what we care about"-Rollo May

Reid

The pain was only getting worse. His mind now regretting the decision to regain consciousness. His body aching, every inch laced with an immense pain. It was consuming him. The pain. The fear. He felt his body quiver, shudder from the lack of knowing what was happening. He couldn't think, couldn't ignore his situation or retreat to his mind, his solace. The pain. He felt it in his stomach, a tremendous aching. Like sharp daggers, it made his breath hitch in his throat. He felt it on his skin, painful tendrils layering it's surface. It was everywhere.

But something wasn't right.

Though his thoughts were hazy, he knew something was different. A feeling of loss, an unnatural goness.

Something missing. What? He didn't know.

And again his fear and pain bested him, and he once again returned to the blackness that had so recently embodied him.

* * *

Emily had always been strong. So when Hotch saw the broken and defeated expression befall her face, he felt something inside him crumble. Her eyes a wandering mess as they glazed over the plane wreck, filling with unshed tears. The deep unsteady breaths slightly chocked and uneven.

Taking a deep steady breath Emily said in a small voice, "Do you think we will find them?" Her eyes remaining trained on the wreck, not daring to look over at Hotch. "I mean do you think that they are even still alive?" She shook her head, her gaze turing downward.

Hotch, too observed the plane, his eyes not really perceiving what they were directed to. The daylight was begun to fade and the sun had basically set. The moon now taking over. It was getting dark. Slivers of moonlight beginning to cascaded over the craft and shown through the holes in the wreck. Their silverly, once reassuring glow, casting eerie shadows over the ruin. The glints of light intensifying the look of blood and ash.

Soon visibility would be gone. Then where would they be? Without light, the rest of the team would be all but lost, trapped in this horrific wreck. Any hope of them being alive, struggling to cling to life, would diminish and there would be no reason to continue. How much time did they have? Minutes? Hours? It would be impossible. Every member, alive or dead, needed to be recovered before night completely fall. But how?

"Yes. We just can't waste any more time."

...

They worked harder then they had ever before; moving between the debris and obstacles that persistent to obstruct them. The tangly mess that worked to hold them back, prevent them from finding their friends. They worked together, a well oiled team. And between the both of them, with in a matter of minutes, had located a body.

Rossi.

The man a broken mess strewn under a pile of rubble. His body still clinging to his seat, restrained by the belt that held him firm. His face was caked with blood, dust, and ash. The skin of the side of his face red and littered with boils and pustules, seeming to been blasted by the flames. They worked slow, moving cautious, carful not to jerk his left arm which was obviously broken. And seeing as Prentiss was only capable of using one arm, the other slung in a makeshift sling around her shoulder, Hotch was left doing much of the heavy lifting. Though he was not unable, his body wasn't coping well with the strain.

Nonetheless, this was Rossi and pain didn't matter anymore.

Hotch exhaled shakily, his back curved in a pained positioned over an airplane seat that held Rossi hostage. Emily rested her good hand on the man's shoulder. "We have to take this slow. Don't strain yourself."

Hotch nodded. It was weird for him to be directed by Emily, as he had always held superiority. But what did it matter anymore? Pushing that aside, he gazed up at her battered face and managed a small smile. Through the dissipating light, Hotch could see the small reassurance it offered the young woman. He then straightened and continued.

Rossi was free a few minutes later, but the battle wasn't over. Now with a clear view of the man, both Emily and Hotch could see the condition he was in. The burn they had hoped only remained on his cheek extended downward and covered his shoulder and a little of his forearm. The skin burned away, revealing a dark blacked excreta of boils, mounds of pustules oozing green white ooze, and rivets of blood as it flowed freely. His left arm hung like dead meat, useless and weighted, and held tinges of blue as the blood flow was slowly blocked.

Emily leaned in slowly, her hand shaking as she attempted to answer the question that hung in the air. Was he even alive? They couldn't see whether his chest was moving or not, and telling by their sharp intakes of breath, none wanted to face the truth. But she had to, for both their sakes; they needed to know.

An eternity passed. The moments moving like decades, time slowing to a stop, as Prentiss made her steady decent toward Rossi. Her breath caught in her throat, she had ceased to breath. Both her pointer finger and middle finger gingerly pressed against the side of the man's neck. She waited.

"Oh my God." She shakily rose to her feet. Her breath hitching dangerously in her throat. Her eyes were wet, the tears flowed freely down her face. She turned to face Hotch. "He's alive."

Relief was evident, for the both of them. Hotch's whole body seemed to sigh, an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders. A small victory. He couldn't stop the tears that flowed from his eyes. He couldn't help the shuddered sobs that escaped his lips. "Oh thank-thank..." He couldn't even finish, his words breathy and unsteady. He felt light headed, his mind cloudy and his heart racing. It took all his strength to fight back the tears, to halt the sobs, and turn into the leader he had always been. The leader he needed to be.

"Ok he's in bad shape. Prentiss I need you to get the medical kit and start fixing him up. Ill pop his shoulder back in, but you need to do the rest. I have to keep looking."

"Yes sir." Prentiss nodded in agreement and did as she ad been directed. Seeing a flips of the old Hotch, the commanding hard ass, was enough to send a little flutter of hope through her body. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out as they had been. Doubtful.

...

Hotch stumbled through the wreck edge on unsteady legs. His eyes analyzing every inch of his surroundings. His heart was pounding against his chest threatening to burst free. His hands shook. Pain? Anticipation? Relief? It could have been all those things, but seeing Rossi alive had given Hotch something that he hadn't had since Emily had been found. Will.

It seemed to come and go; not dare lay residence in any one permanent place. He had felt it vaguely when he had learned that he had not been the only survivor, that Emily too had lived. It had been a feeling like no other. A fluttering in his chest that gave him the hope, the will, to keep going. But as fast as it had appeared, it had vanished. The anguish, the despair once again setting in.

Now it had returned, a reassuring and strong feeling coursing through his body like electricity. Vibrant and alive. Emily. Rossi. Alive. The thought of it sending a small smile to his beat up face. Alive.

"Hotch." Emilies worried voice interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, he turned to face her. His view obstructed from the lack of light.

"What is it?" His tone was higher and much more strained then he would have liked. He took a deep breath, working to control himself. The rickashay of emotions that flooded through his body. "Emily?"

A shudders breath alone filled the empty cabin, accompanied by a small sob, "Hotch, I-I see a...a hand."

Confusion. Terror. Why had she said it like that? He knew why. Deep inside, he dreaded the reality. Despite his knowing he persisted, clinging to a small shred of hope that he was wrong. "Who does it belong to Prentiss?"

Another sob, inadvertently answering his question. His body, heart, once again filled with dread.

"It's-It..." She paused, another sob escaping her lips. A sharp cry soon followed. Her agony hitting Hotch like a brick wall. It's intensity filling the cabin, making his heart seize in his chest. It took everything inside of him to remain stoic, to keep a straight unwavering expression, and wait for the words to come. He knew that when they did, everything he had once held, all that will he had just clung to, just claimed he had possessed would be washed away. He waited, dreading every second. "It's just a hand, Hotch. Oh God, oh God..."

...

"Calm down," his voice was soothing, somehow. The rational side of him appearing from somewhere he didn't know. "We can't focus on that," he took a second to choke back a sob, "w-we have to focus on finding the others." Emily was sobbing, her face buried in Hotch's chest. He didn't remember how he had gotten there, just moments ago he had been somewhere else, alone, but somehow he had managed to comeback, to offer her with much needed comfort. It was clear, even if it was never admitted that they were desperate and required the consolation that only either of them could give.

"I'm sorry," Prentiss mumbled, pulling back from Hotch. She adverted her gaze, using her one good hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. They had lost their intensity, their strength. The power they had once held had dissipated and had been replace with a fear and longing that pained Hotch to see. Irreversible. "I didn't me-mean I should-ldn't have broken down like that. I'm sorry."

Hotch shook his head, knowing what it was like to hold the responsibility of required strength. He knew how painful, how difficult it was. Part of him pleaded to completely give into the terror and fall apart. And inside him, he desperately wanted to. To Emily's surprise, Hotch brought her into a reassuring hug. His arms strong and gentle. Only for a second he felt the flutter return to his chest.

"Don't be." He didn't dare break their contact. If not only for Emily, but for himself. He felt alone, afraid and holding someone, _knowing _someone he loved was with him was enough to again fill him with the drive to continue. The darkness continued to fall, the night sky replacing that of the sun's light. And they had only found Rossi.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, still weak from her sobs. She pulled away from him slowly, knowing it was necessary. The comfort draining away the farther she moved away. Her heart seized at the familiar feeling of fright and detachment. It didn't matter, though.

JJ, Morgan, and Reid were still missing.

...

Rossi was stable. Emily had managed to find the medical kit and provide enough treatment to his wounds to keep his body 'healthy' for the time being. It would have to do for now, a temporary fix. In the morning, after the rest of the team was found-she could not bare to think otherwise- real solutions would be found.

She had left Rossi laying where he had originally been placed. They didn't dare move his body more then necessary for fear of making any of his injuries worse. His breathing had improved. The shallow and shaky breaths that he had been taken had slowed- the result of no longer being constricted- and deepened. He was stable.

"Wish we had a damn flashlight," Hotch muttered, his voice deep and stronger then before, as again his foot caught and he was sent stumbling through the wreckage. He didn't fall, narrowly escaping injury, and remained swaying on his unsteady feet. Prentiss gripped his arm tightly.

"Slow down Hotch. You can't risk getting hurt." They continued on, squinting to see through the darkness. They were about to start searching around a pile of debris when hotch stopped suddenly. His abrupt movement caught Emily off guard and she collided into his back. She couldn't hide the worry that filled her voice, "Hotch?" Desperately she tried to understand what was happening.

Hotch's breathing remained sharp. He seemed to be trying to speak but he couldn't bare it through his gasps. "I-I.." But he was cut off as his body began to shake.

"Hotch?!"

He didn't reply. From behind him, in a position she could change she stood solidified, not knowing what to do. A raspy cough began erupting from the man. A loud torrent of angry hacks and grunts. A roar of agonizing belts. Each explosion cutting him off from breathing. Between coughs, shuttered sobs, and attempts to speak, he gasps for breath.

"Em-m.." He again attempted to say something, when the episode seemed to slow. But his effort was awarded with another round of hacks. All the while, his body shuttering and jolting.

An eternity later, the coughing slowed and Hotch's body seized to convulse. He risked taking a long deep breath, knowing another fit could be underway. But when none came he risked a sigh. His hands, which had been clutching his chest instinctively shakily released their grip on his shirt and dropped to his side.

"Hotch?" Her worried voice filled the now still and tranquil cabin. "What the hell just happened!?"

Slowly, he turned to face her. "I hav..."

He didn't get a chance to finish; a loud gasp cut him off.

_What was wrong now?!_

A sliver of moonlight illuminated the horrified expression on Emily's face. Her dark eyes, wide, gleaming with unknown terror. And she was looking directly at him.

"Oh God.."

"Emily?" Hotch worked to keep his hoarse, corse voice calm. But in reality, fear was beginning to consume him, beginning to gain control. His strength dissipating.

"What is it?"

A deep breath now, prolonged and unsteady.

"Hotch you just coughed up blood."


	5. By Luck, If Not Something Else

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Criminal Minds

**Warnings: **Bad language and frightening events

**Authors Note: **Thank you to those who actually are spending time reading this! Feedback, comments, critiques. :) Enjoy!

**Previously: **Emily?" Hotch worked to keep his hoarse, corse voice calm. But in reality, fear was beginning to consume him, beginning to gain control. His strength dissipating."What is it?"A deep breath now, prolonged and unsteady."Hotch you just coughed up blood."

"I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death."- Leonardo da Vinci

...

He felt it now, the slimy warm ooze that was running down his chin. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the blood away; he felt it smear further on his face.

"Hotch?" Was that Emily? What? His fear was beginning to take over. His dark eyes darting madly, as his mind tried to understand what had just occurred. What had even happened? "Hotch."

Why was he acting this way? Was that Emily again?

"Hotch listen to me, you have to focus." Something soft gently gripped his arm. _Focus ,_he thought, _Get a grip._

"Hotch, look at me. Calm down." Her voice was distant, soft. It seemed too far away to be real.

_Calm down. Calm down. _He tried to drill the order in his mind, but the control evaded him. Worry and fright taking place. _What's gonna happen? Blood, couffing up blood means..what? Internal bleeding? What else? Will I die? I can't die! Oh God, oh God..._

"Hotch!" It was a yell. A strong, piercing yell that awoke him from his thoughts and pulled him back to reality. "Calm down. Take deep breaths."

He did. A deep shaky breath. Then another. He felt his body, his mind relax. For a second, he closed his eyes, pulling away from the situation to gather himself, and seconds later reopened them, his gaze now focused on Emily. It was then that he noticed through the sheen of moonlight that illuminated her face, the tears that streaked her cheeks. "Oh thank God." The strength had dissipated, leaving only relief. Her voice sounded broken.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He was almost embarrassed. "I have never lost control like that before." He was grateful for the darkness that encased him, for it hid the tears that were now falling down his battered face. The weakness that was breaking through.

"Don't be sorry. I just need you to be okay," Emily's reply was small, uncharacteristically. She seemed to have stopped holding back the tears, had given up all control of her emotions. Had Hotch also? "I just nee-" Her voice broke, a chocked sob taking over. Her gaze lowered to the ground. Her cries persisted, silently. It was evident she was trying to hide it, hold back more emotions she had locked away. But she couldn't, and deep gasps erupted between shuttered sobs and shaking shoulders. "I n-need, nee-d everyone t-o be o-kay."

"I'm fine, Emily. Coughing up blood isn't life threatening," That probably wasn't true, but he didn't correct himself. Then something inside him kicked, and he wrapped his arms around the quivering woman. She didn't resist, and again they enjoyed the comfort of each others company. "We will find them." He desperately wanted to say more, to give her more reassurance but bit back the words. How could he say, "Everything is going to be alright", or even, "They are all going to be just fine", when he didn't know if things would be. For all he knew, and he hated himself for thinking this way, they could all be dead.

Emily seemed about ready to say somethings, but wasn't given the chance. Her voice cut off by the sound of another.

"HELP?!"

...

He woke up encased in darkness. An eerie blackness with little light from the moon.

_What happened? Where am I?_

He tried to move. The attempt shooting rivets of agony down and throughout his body; mind numbing pain, everywhere. He wanted to scream, but no sound escaped his coarse throat.

Never had he felt misery as this before.

Vaguely, he was aware of something in his thigh. The area white hot, encased in a burning fire that persisted every second, and was layered in a warm sticky liquid. But something else.

It was then that he realized that much of his body was covered in warmth. From blood? He now registered something else, the presence of _someone_ else, who was pressed tightly against his side.

_Someone?_

Biting back tears that came from the movement, he tried to position himself in a way that he was facing who ever was pressing against his body. A low moan escaped his lips as his leg shifted and more pain ignited.

A shuttered gasp escaped through his dry lips. His whole body shuddered. But he would not stop.

He twisted his body in a way that his legs stayed immobile, but his torso was redirected and facing the warm body against him.

_Who is this? Are they even alive?_

Carefully, he grazed his fingers against the body, working to find any clue to who the person could be. He felt his breath hitch in his throat. Female.

_Oh God, it's either JJ or Emily?_

He felt fear and panic raise inside of him, he couldn't handle either of them being dead. There was a sudden wetness on his cheek, as tears began streaking down his face.

_No this isn't happening! _

A chocked sob escaped his throat, his body shook. The pain, anger, and fear only increasing.

_Get a grip man. Keep it together. _

He needed to know. The truth would determine his next move, possibly change his life forever. He pressed his head against her chest. He waited. _Bum-bum. Bum-bum._

The sound was almost nonexistent, but it sent relief through his body nonetheless.

"Oh thank God," His voice was weak and wavered with each word. From pain or fear, he didn't know.

_Bum-bum, bum-bum. _He continued to listen, each beat offering him the slightest bit of reassurance. _Bum-bum, bum-bum._

_Are they getting __slower?_

_Bum-bum, bum..._

Nothing.

"HELP!?"

...

"Morgan! Hotch, that's Morgan!" Emily cried, her eyes darted around the plane frantically. Her breath becoming shallow as panic began to overtake her. "That's Morgan!"

The yell had come from the back of the plane, somewhere behind a large pile of rubble that they had over looked. With renewed strength, both Emily and Hotch proceeded toward the direction of the sound, their hearts drumming wildly against the inside of their chests. They reached the area with minimal struggle; ignoring the uneven ground, the rubble, and the blood that littered the floor.

They were close now peering wildly around, ignoring the hindering darkness. "Morgan!" Hotch called, his voice pitchy. "Can you hear me?"

They waited. Nothing.

"Morgan?"

More silence.

"Emily?"

"Yeah, it's me and Hotch. We are going to get you out."

More seconds passed, the silence gripping them like icy fingers.

A deep, strained breath. "Hurry. It's JJ. She stopped breathing."

"How long ago?" Hotch asked as he worked to clear the rubble, his movements quick but sloppy. Emily attempted to help, but her movements were slow.

"Maybe like 30 seconds, not too long."

Emily took a deep breath before continuing, her voice rushed. "Then we have less then a minute to get her out." She quickened her movements. "Two minutes and she's gone."

Hotch was breathing heavily now, straining to move the rubbled with his weakened body. "Morgan, you need to-to show us where you are. Can you move?"

"Yeah, look for my hand."

It was so dark. Would they see it?

A few seconds later.

"I don't see it!" Emily cried frantically.

The sound of shifting, a straggled cry.

"Over here!" Hotch.

Working quickly, they began pulling away the rubble that trapped their friends.

Almost there.

"Fuck!" Hotch bellowed, tugging at a large airplane seat. It wouldn't budge. Emily joined in, using every once of strength she had inside her.

"It's not moving!"

"We're running out of time!" Morgan.

"Morgan can you start CPR?" Emily questioned. "How much room do you have?"

More seconds dampened in silence. "No. I can't!"

Emily eyed Hotch nervously, who was still struggling with the seat. "Hotch we have less then a minute."

"Okok!" Hotch responded nervously, working to turn the rusted gears in his head. "Ok Morgan, Can you move your legs?"

"Yes, one of them."

"Good, good. Put it against the seat in front of you. Start pushing." He said each word quickly, the fear building. For a few seconds, nothing. Then suddenly the seat shifted, allowing enough room to access JJ and pull her free. Hotch pulled something from inside his pocket, it glinted in the sliver moonlight and he handed it to Emily as he knelt beside JJ.

Without turning to face her, Hotch stated, "You know what to do."

...

"...27-28-29-30. Breath. Breath. 1-2-3..."

Nothing.

"...10-11-12..."

Still no response. JJ lay still, silent on the cold uneven floor. Nothing.

"...Breath. 1-2-3-4..."

"Damn it JJ. COME ON! Morgan shrieked. Half his body was still covered in rubble, pinned. He could only watch Hotch and Emily as they tried to revive her. He could only bare witness. Do nothing.

"...17-18-19..."

_Please! Please! She can't die! No! Not JJ! Please!_

"...-29. Breath, breath. ..."

"Hotch?"

"...6-7-8..."

"Hotch, listen to me, she's gone..."

"No!" Heartache filling his voice. "...14-15-16..."

Emily felt the tears, the river flowing down her face. This couldn't be happening. As much as she didn't want to accept it, she was gone. "Hotch," Tone soft and gentle. "JJ's-"

JJ's body lurched, cutting Prentiss off. Her eyes fluttering as she began coughing madly. Her body convulsing with each thrusting hack.

"JJ?"

The woman was coughing, sputtering, gasping for air; she was alive.

"Oh thank God!" Morgan cried, he let the tears fall freely.

Hotch said nothing, as he gazed down at the woman he had just so recently though to be dead. His countenance unreadable.

"I'll try to find some water," Emily stated, before jumping disappearing into the darkness. No one stopped her.

JJ's coughs and gasps were beginning to subside, her shifting gaze slowed and she began to focus. "Hotch?" It was barley audible.

A small smile tugged at his lips, "It's nice to see you." The blond seemed to be returning the smile.

A small cough, followed by a deep shaky breath, "You too."

For a few moments no one said anything, the cabin falling silent.

"JJ?" Morgan whispered through the darkness.

"Morgan? Is that you?"

"Yeah. It's me." Morgan didn't say anything else for a few moments, but when his voice reappeared it was unsteady, full of dread. "Hotch?"

"Yeah." Even before he said it, he knew what Morgan was going to ask.

"Is everyone...alive?" Morgan's heart was pounding, threatening to break the confines of his chest cavity. He waited in darkness and silence for the answer.

Never before had Hotch been so relieved to be interrupted.

"Look-well guess you can't-who I found?" Emily worked to sound light hearted, but she couldn't hide the melancholy in her voice.

"Hello everyone." Rossi.

"Rossi!" JJ cried, her eyes trying to locate the older man in the darkness. "You okay?"

"Can't complain." The sound of grunting, then an "oof" as the two of them sat down. There was a small click, and eerie yellow light washed over the cabin.

"I found a flashlight," Emily said, angling the glow upward as to not blind anyone. The reassuring light touched them all, illuminating their looked like death.

"No water?"

"Damn it!" That received a dry laugh. It quickly dissipated.

They were all silent, a dark question hung in the air. No one dared speak. It shown on each of their faces that they were all thinking the same thing, all dreading the same thought.

Only five. One missing.

No one moved. No one dared make a sound. Was this something they had to accept?

The words were soft, barley above a whisper. "Is Reid dead?"

**TBC**


	6. Loosing Hope

**Disclaimer: **See my profile

**Warnings: **Strong language and frightening events

**Author's Note: **Sorry this update took so long to come out, currently working on another story that just doesn't want to cooperate, GAHHH! But whatever. Hope you all enjoy, please review, comment, critique, if you like or absolutely hate this or what not, all that good stuff. Thank you to everyone who is reviewing and reading this. Enjoy. ***SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 (not in depth)

**Previously: **They were all silent, a dark question hung in the air. No one dared speak. It shown on each of their faces that they were all thinking the same thing, all dreading the same thought. Only five. One missing. No one moved. No one dared make a sound. Was this something they had to accept?The words were soft, barley above a whisper. "Is Reid dead?"

_"__I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.__"-__Robert Fulghum_

_..._

Reid

He wasn't dead; that part was certain. Dead people didn't feel pain.

He had awaken once again and instantly had been hit with a wave of agony, one that persisted with each torturous second. The feeling in his abdomen, the cold foreign metal lodged tightly in the base of his stomach, was beginning to hinder his breathing. Each intake of breath was becoming weaker, and fewer...He felt light headed; his mind was still able to process what was around him, yet too cloudy to put to use.

He was fully aware of the object in his stomach, it was hard to ignore, but he couldn't understand the odd sensation near the wrist of his left hand. He felt something unlike pain, something he couldn't identify. It was a different sensation, a sort of heat that ripped through his body like fire. Much of his skin had been burned, charred by the flame wall and the heat of the crash. Infection or hypovolemia naturally had settled in and his life was dwindling by the second. He knew his chances of survival, he was loosing hope.

_How long has it been? _

It seemed like an eternity since the crash. Everything had changed. He didn't know how long it had been, whether it had been minutes, hours, or even days. Was he the only one left?

_Why am I holding on?_ _What am I waiting for? _

It was clear that he wasn't getting rescued, right? The team, his family, were all dead, destroyed in the crash. Why had he survived? To live his last moments in torment, until the sweet release of death could take him? Were there any possible reason for him to live? He pushed the thoughts of his mother aside, they had all burned away in the fire. Again he thought, _What am I waiting for?_

_Why me?! _

He couldn't stop the anger that was raising inside him. How was it fair? Any of it? All his life, he had done nothing but help others, always making sacrifices. Always struggling, always faced with obstacles that he had to overcome on his own. The kidnapping, the murder, the drugs, _WHY?! _What more could this shitty fucked up world throw at him?! Then the schizophrenia dilemma. His mother having it just wasn't enough! He lost her to a disease, his beautiful mother disabled by her mind. And now he would lose his own.

_What am I living for?_

He had been given a gift, an extraordinary mind, only to be exiled for it.

He had found love, only to have it ripped away.

He had been comforted with sanity, only to learn it would not last.

He had been given a family, only for them to be decimated in the _fucking_ crash.

He had been given life, only to experience it's agony.

He had done his best, and yet it was never enough.

He let out a defining shriek, "AHHHH!" Of rage and pain. Of hate and fear. Of sorrow. His body jolted from the effort, sending more suffering throughout his body. He ignored it, no longer caring. It didn't matter any more.

He was glad it was going to be over. Everything was against him. It had always been a fight, a war. Had he ever won? What did it matter? He was done fighting. It was time to surrender and give up. It was no longer worth it.

Another defining cry erupted from his lips, the effort straining and agonizing. His body begged him to stop, to have mercy. But he refused, prolonging the shriek until he could no longer bear it. "AHHHHHHHHH!" But he could no longer felt the pain, the fear. He was numb.

His body relaxed in submission. Smiling, he closed his eyes.

...

The team sat in silence, those words lingering in the air. No one wanted to think about it. How could it be true? The fucking plane had crashed, and somehow everyone of them had survived with the exception of one.

Reid.

He was dead?

They sat still and silent for a while, the reality of everything seeming to finally settle in. It was Prentiss who finally broke the silence. Her words small and chocked. He voice sounded broken.

"It was his hand that I saw. He-he probably di-" she was cut off by her own sobs. She turned and found comfort in JJ, who was crying silently as well.

"Hand?" Morgan asked shakily, his voice difficult to hear. He sat away from the others, the light of the flashlight didn't reach his face, merely outlined his body. They didn't need to see his expression to know what he was feeling. "You found his hand?"

Emily nodded, her head still against JJ's shoulder. Her cries only intensified.

"Why is it always Reid?" It was Rossi, his cheeks were wet with new tears, his eyes rimmed red. "He's such a good kid, he doesn't deserve any of this."

"I'm going to miss him," JJ chocked out the words, her voice strained. "It's not fair!"

Morgan cut in, "He's not dead." Spitting out each word angrily. "We can't give up!"

"Morgan we have been look-" Hotch began but was efficivly cut off.

"NO!" The sound of shuffling as Morgan moved to his feet. The pain it caused was evident, as he groaned loudly with each movement. "Damn it! He could still be out there! All of us were! It's a miracle that we are all alive, what's to say that Reid is dead?" Anger was raising inside him, accompanied by determination. Reid could still be alive.

"He's dead Morgan!" Emily shrieked. She ripped herself from JJ's hold and peered up at him angrily. The light illuminated the rage in her dark eyes. She had ceased crying and held herself up with a straight back. As she stared at Morgan her gaze did not waver. The weakness she had so recently displayed tucked away, as silent tears streaked down her face. When she spoke, her tone was soft almost in disbelief of what she was saying. As if she herself, was only accepting the fact now. "Reid is dead."

Morgan had moved closer, the beam of light now touching him. He was shaking, his hands were in tight fists at his side, his knuckles turning white. His lips were being pressed tightly together, his eyes in slits as he glared at Emily. His chest heaving, his balance unsteady as he stood on his one good leg. His words were venomous, a deep growl "No. He is not dead, not dead. Damn you for thinking he is. Reid is still alive. He's alive and I'm going to find him."

Once again silence feel upon the cabin. However, it did not last as a perching scream erupted from the back of the plane.

...

"REID!?" Morgan shrieked, his eyes were wide in terror, and excitement. "Oh my God! REID?!" Despite his injured leg, Morgan sprinted toward the back of the plane, dodging rubble as he went. The others, still completely shocked, quickly followed. JJ stayed behind.

The beam of the flashlight danced along the wreckage as they ran, working to get to the back of the plane where the scream had erupted.

As they moved, Morgan shrieked, "REID?! REID!?"

Each time there was no response.

The team stopped at a pile of rubbled close to the small kitchenette in the rear of the aircraft.

Emily chocked back a sob, "This is where, I saw...Oh God! I didn't look!" She wasn't much help, her mind clouded with fear and guilt. The team ignored her cries and focused their full attention on the rubble pile. Gathered in a heap, similer to many other piles that littered the wreckage, were the remains of airplane seats, ash and blood.

Whos blood?

Hotch had taken the flashlight from Emily, and with shaky hands shown the eerie light over the heap. There was no immediate appearance of a body, however as the light drifted further down the glow illuminated what looked like a finger.

"Oh God! Nono!" Morgan yelled dropping to his knees. He peered underneath the crevis. Quivering hands moved away a loosened piece. It fell to the ground, Morgan too shocked to keep hold.

The breath caught in his throat.

Again silence consumed the room.

All eyes unwarvery from what they we're seeing.

"Oh God No!

They began pulling pieces away from the pile, not caring that their bodies were pleading for them to stop. Piece by piece, the more they could see.

Emily had been wrong in assuming that the hand had been severed. That it did not connect with anything. Had she not looked close enough, had her fear caused her to misjudge?

It was not only a hand.

The hand was indeed connected to an arm that, now as they had pulled the obstructing pieces away, a body. The small, fragile, broken body of Reid. The young genius was laying half tucked under a golden air plane seat,a jagged piece of metal jutting from his chest. Blood leaked from the wound, the warm, thick liquid encasing him in a think red blanket. His eyes were closed, his arms contoured in unnatural positions, the color all but faded. His skin littered with boils and puss as infection settled in; the burns harboring in his decaying skin. However, these injuries were not what startled the team.

It was his face that frightened them the most.

His face, despite the evident pain, was relaxed. His expression serene, almost calm. His lips, they had to be mistaken, pressed softly forming a...smile.

Shock had again befuddled the group. But it did not last, it couldn't.

"Reid?" Morgan looked at his brother, his eyes leaking tears. He gently cupped Reid's battered cheek in his hand, the skin still smooth yet not the same. Cold.

Behind Morgan, someone gasped, "Oh God."

A stricken sob.

A loud pained cry.

"Is he-he..." They already knew the answer. None needed to check.

Reid hadn't taken a breath since they had found him.

He was dead.

"No..." Morgan looked lost, peering down at his friend. A hand gently gripped his shoulder from above. "Morgan, stop. He's gone." Hotch managed a clam and collected tone, though he did not know how. Morgan shrugged his hand off, clenching his fists at his sides as he peered down at his friend. As he did, Morgan felt everything inside him die. He felt barren, almost betrayed.

_How can he be dead? This is Reid._

Anger rose inside him all at once, as if through all it's manifestation it had chosen to be unleashed now.

"WAKE UP!" Morgan shrieked. "REID WAKE UP!" As if blinded by his agony, Morgan leaned over his friends motionless body and began pounding him on the chest. His fist smashing him hard in powerful blows. "NO!" He screamed. "NO!"

"Morgan, stop-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BASTARD!" He continued to pound, his sobs growing stronger. "YOU CAN'T DIE ON ME!" His mind was racing, his vision blurry. "YOU CAN'T DIE! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"His strength began to fade, he sunk back on his feet, his fist unclenching as it ceased to pound. "Please," He pleaded, sobbing. "Don't leave me..."

The young agent still did not move.

"Morgan..." JJ's unsteady voice erupted from the front of the plane. Her words were despondent, frightened. She already knew the answer before she asked the question. There wasn't a need any more, as they all knew the truth, yet it still came. "Is he-"

She was cut off as Reid's body lurched forward.

...

The pain had dissipated and his body felt warm. He opened his eyes and was welcomed to the sight of a bright, calming light. This was it, right? He would die. Would be free.

And yet it didn't feel right. There was something, something in the far back of his mind, that told him that he had made the wrong decision.

Had he let go to quick?

He couldn't have, he was ready. Everything told him it was his time, he longed for solace. For complete peace.

So close to the warmth, the safe haven. Why not just let it take him?

Let go.

He felt his body begin to give in, as if a weight of a heavy burden he had been carrying his whole life was being lifted. Freeing him. He smiled, or at least he thought he did.

But the light flickered, and the world around him seemed to fall away for a moment. Why?

The light, it flickered again. It's warm glow momentarily disappeared. The darkness inside him returning.

Again. Again.

He felt anger, fear. What was happening? Why was this paradise disappearing?

But he wanted to go, it was time. He couldn't stay in this nightmare. He had lost everything. Everyone.

Again. And then something different.

A voice?

It seemed so far away, so unreal.

The voice came again. Again.

He recognized it, no...Morgan?

But he died? They all did.

Again. Again.

"..ID W.."

It was him. He could never forget his brothers voice. Somehow he had survived. Maybe the others had as well.

Maybe there was a reason to live, to fight.

Again. Again.

It was him.

Again. Again. Stronger.

Morgan was alive.

It was all Read needed, this small confirmation to fight. To bypass this paradise and return to his reality. His fucked up, shitty reality.

He wouldn't be alone.

He would fight for Morgan.

**TBC**

_*Hypovolemia- when much blood is lost (simplified meaning)_


	7. Forsaken

**Disclaimer: **See my profile

**Warnings: **Graphic descriptions, frightening events, much cursing

**Authors Note: **I must apologize for the extensive wait, but RL got out of control. But enough with excuses. I hope that you enjoy and please voice any questions that you may or may not have. We are coming close to the end, close but not quite there and my goal is not to confuse. Please do leave a review. Hope that you enjoy.

**Previously: **It was all Read needed, this small confirmation to fight. To bypass this paradise and return to his reality. His fucked up, shitty wouldn't be would fight for Morgan.

_"Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today."-Thich Nhat Hanh_

...

Morgan watched Reid's body lurch forward. He watched his friend gasp for air. He watched his eyes flutter open, his hands cradle the jagged metal in his stomach. He watched as he cried out in pain, tears falling from his brightening eyes. He watched him pull his body from death to life. Yet he did nothing.

Hotch rushed from behind Morgan, pushing him aside as he worked to stabilize Reid. Assessing the situation.

Hotch seemed to be the only one thinking clearly. Emily was shrieking, crying heavily as torrents of sobs wracked her fragile body. Rossi stood unmoving, his eyes glazed over as he mumbled, a prayer? JJ, though still far away, could be heard, her sob a piecing sound that blended with Emily's.

"Morgan, snap out of it!" Hotch yelled. He didn't brother to look over at him, his attention was solely focused on Reid. The young man coughing, his movements jostling injuries, the blood flowing faster, his breaths shallow gasps.

He would die.

"Morgan! Morgan!" Hotch was screaming, his coarse throat strained with the effort. Morgan still had not moved. He couldn't shift his attention, he needed to focus on Reid. Only Reid. But, as Hotch analysed his colleagues injuries he was aware that no matter what he did, he would need help. "Morgan! I need you to help me!"

Still nothing, the dark man sat unmoving, his eyes glazed over. Hotch curse under his breath, as his fingers sloppily worked to stop the bleeding. Prevent further damage.

The blood continued to flow. The warm, crimson ooze showing no signs of ceasing.

He could not do this alone.

"MORGAN!? HELP ME! HELP _REID_!" Hotch shrieked, downing out all other noise. The cabin became silent, the shock began to fade. "MORGAN! ANYONE! HELP ME!" Hotch began to cry, unable to hold back his tears. He dropped his hands to his sides, defeated. "Please.."

He knew there was no one, yet...

"Please. I can't do this on my own..."He looked up from the lifeless body of his young subordinate whose eyes were glassy as they gazed unseeing. Dead.

Reid was dead.

Hotch couldn't help but stare at the young man. The man he had loved as a son.

He had allowed him to die.

All of them.

Hotch turned around, finally seeing through his warped mind, the carnage before him. The death. The destruction. The loss. His eye finally seeing his reality. The fog lifting.

The dead bodies of his family, strewn through the wreckage like leaves. Lax and dead.

His mind relayed the moments following the crash, the nightmare that had left him uncovering the dead members of his team, his family.

He had uncovered them all. And they had all died.

Emily the young, brilliant, dark haired woman lying beside him, dead. Her body twisted unnaturally, her spine snapped. There had been nothing anyone could have done to save her. She had passed on moments following the crash. Hotch had held her lax body in his arms, cradling close as he pretended she was still alive. Through his pain he spoke to her, combing his mangled fingers in her jet black hair. He had not wanted to say goodbye. But he had.

"Hotch." It was barley audible and yet the clarity was unmistakable.

Rossi.

"ROSSI!?" Hotch howled. He searched the wreckage frantically, working to find any clue of Rossi's location. "Rossi?"

Silence.

Hotch waited. Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

Yet the voice did not come again.

And even as he looked, moving through the wreckage like a madman, subconsciously he already knew the truth.

Rossi would not call out again.

He fell to his knees and cried. How long? He would never know, but he remained.

A small noise.

Hotch gazed over to the corner of the plane and saw the outline of a muscular, dark-skinned man.

Morgan.

A barely alive Morgan who was wheezed and struggling to stay alive. He run over, desperate to keep his colleague from deaths door. He managed to clear away the wreckage that covered him, only for all hope to fade away. He could now see the extent of Morgans' injuries and he knew he would not last.

Morgan would die.

"Hotch?" Morgan asked weakly, through a haze. His mind detaching from reality.

Hotch had held the dark man close, trying to comfort him in his last seconds. He held him tight, he did not want Morgan to go. "I'm here."

"We-we fo..." Morgan's voice trailed off. His eyes closed and his body went limp. He was gone. And just like that Derek Morgan had died.

"AHHHHHH!" Hotch had shrieked, releasing Morgan's dead body from his grip as he jumped to his feet. "NO NO NO NO!" It was like a chant, a blood-churdling rant that emptied Hotch of his humanity. Blinded by his rage, he had barreled into a golden airplane seat that lay aside Morgan's wreckage pile. He had pumped it sending it flying across the floor, revealing what it had hidden underneath.

JJ.

The young, compassionate woman reduced to skeletal remands and charred boiled skin. Her body burned away, the skin charred and raw. But her face remained. And throughout his tears Hotch could glimpse the features of this beautiful woman for the last time. The woman who had lost her life so abruptly, had died a death so unjust. Had it been her scream that he had heard?

Hotch gazed over her calm, serene face. Her broken, destroyed remains and he felt something inside him break. Something crumple from within, something he would never be able to repair.

Hotch said goodbye to JJ. Another member of his diminishing family.

There seemed to be no greater torture, moving from one loved one's dead body to the next. There was no worse punishment, no crueler faith. What had he done to deserve this?

He had lost everything.

Why had they died? Why had he survived? The question repeated in his mind. Over and over...Why?

He recalled the events that had led up to this nightmare. It had been him. This was all his fault?

Why had he survived? The question came again. He had an answer.

Because he needed to suffer...

His body quivered with the memories. Shuddered with the knowing that he had cause this nightmare.

It was his fault.

He had killed them all.

Emily.

Rossi.

Morgan.

JJ.

He found the slightest flutter within his chest. Reid? Maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he had lived and somehow through this nightmare, there would be light. Could it be true?

He found his answer when he uncovered the disjointed hand of his missing colleague. He pulled away rubble and found the rest of him. The rest of his burnt, bloody body that barley clung to life.

Hotch tried to work quickly, pulling away the rubble piece by piece. But his efforts were in vain.

"Reid?" Hotch spoke to the unmoving young man. Would he receive an answer?

There was movement, and once again hope reappeared inside Hotch as Reid gazed at him, his eyes still bright and full of life. "Hotch?" He rasped, his voice displaying his weakness. "I'm not ready to die."

"Don't give up Reid. I'm getting you out." Hotch cried determinately. "Don't you give up on me." He clawed at the pile, his fingers bloodied and raw. He ignored the pain, the new sensations that pelted his body and worked to free his trapped, dying colleague, his family.

Reid was freed by some miracles. But it was evident that his condition was critical.

Like Emily, Morgan, Rossi and JJ, he would die...

Hoth pulled Reid into his shaking arms, trying to ignore the gagged metal protruding from his abdomen, the burns that littered his decaying skin. The evident infection.

"I feel cold," Reid spoke softly, his eyes gazing at something only he could see. He smiled. "Do you see that?"

Hotch looked in the direction Reid was staring but saw only darkness, death. Nothing that would bring him any happiness, or a smile to his face. "What do you see?" He wound not pretend to understand. Reid was going to leave him, venture to a better, happier place and he would be left behind. Alone. "Reid?"

The young man didn't answer. His ragged breaths became nonexistent, his head fell forward as his body went limp. His eyes still open, gazing but not seeing.

And just like that Spencer Reid had died.

Hotch shuddered as he brought his mind back to reality, the memories causing him too much pain. He stared at the relaxed face of Reid, still clinging to his lifeless body. He felt sadness, heartache, but above all he felt... jealous.

"WHY? WHY DO YOU GET TO LEAVE ME?!" Hotch yelled, his mind a red haze as tears streamed down his battered face. "IT"S NOT FAIR!" He threw Reid's dead body aside, pushing himself up to his feet unsteadily. He ignored his physical pain, the throbbing in his heart was whole consuming.

"YOU BASTARD!" He shrieked. "YOU DON'T GET TO LEAVE!" He felt his body shudder, his eyes blinded by rage. Fear. "YOU DON"T GET TO GO!"

Silence. His words solely echoing.

Couldn't he just forget? Recreate a reality where none of this ever happened?

His illusion. The save haven he had created when he had wanted to escape the truth.

He created a world where his family had survived against all odds. Bypassed every expectation or statistical evidence that would suggest other wise. Where he had felt safe. Where he hadn't been alone.

He lifted his tear filled eyes from the comfort of his arms and gazed toward the sky, only seeing darkness in the night. He had never been a religious man, though he felt comfort as he ogled. "I can not survive without my family. I no longer have a reason to live. What is there to live for?" He answered his own question. "Nothing."

He felt his hand grasp what it had been looking for. It gleamed in the light as he brought it to his chest. "I'm done."

He did not have time to act, as a noise erupted through the desolation of the quite. The shard dropped from his hand, his mouth gapped open. "What?" He gasped. He had to be mistaking. Listening, the noise persisted. It was unmistakable.

It was the beep of an alarm clock.

**A/N: Please review. Leave comments to what you believe it happening. If you do figure it out, I must applaud you. Thank you for reading! Also, keep in mind this is still not a death fix, despite how it may seem. Next chapter will certainly relive confusion. And once again, I hope that you enjoy.**

**TBC**


	8. Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: See my profile**

**Authors Note: **Once again sorry for the long wait. Thank you for reviewing. It means a lot that you guys take the time to do so. Also I apologize for any errors that I might have missed, when editing this. Did this in one shot. I hope you enjoy!

**Previously: **He did not have time to act, as a noise erupted through the desolation of the quite. The shard dropped from his hand, his mouth gapped open. "What?" He gasped. He had to be mistaking. Listening, the noise persisted. It was was the beep of an alarm clock.

"Everybody deserves a second chance in this world. That's basically all I ask."-Shannen Doherty

...

Hotch's body shot upright as a scream escaped his coarse lips. His eyes flew open, frantically searching his surroundings. He couldn't settle his beating heart, as it pounded against the inside of his chest threatening to burst free.

His mind began to settle as his eyes adjusted and his gaze met the beam of light that was cascading from a window. An unbroken, blue framed window. His bed room window. He felt around himself, now realizing that his body lay on something soft and comfortable. His bed. His white knuckled fingers clutched the linen tightly.

He released a breath, finally realizing that he had been holding it. The pounding in his chest began to subside. Aloud he said, his voice strange against the quietness, "Hayley?" He looked to his side to see the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. He took a few moments to watch her still form, working to get his mind to comprehend what was happening.

What was going on? Was everything just a dream...

"Team!" Hotch yelled, his mind finally pulling more and more pieces together. What about the team? If he was here then that had to be alive? Maybe...

Hotch ripped the covers away and jumped from the comfort of his bed, his wife moaned softly in her sleep with the sudden movement. He raced down the stairs and grabbed his cell phone that he didn't remember leaving on the table. He hastily flipped it open and dialed the first number on the screen. Rossi. He waited impatiently as the phone rang.

There was a click and a familiar voice answered, "Rossi. Who is this?"

"Rossi!" Hotch cried, his voice high with relief. Pure and utter happiness. "Your alive!"

"Hotch?" Is that you?" He questioned.

"Yeah man, I'm so glad that your okay!" Hotch couldn't seem to control himself. He had never been so relieved in his entire life. If Rossi was alive, then the others had to be as well, right...

"Are you alright? You sound different and your late for work, really late. Is everything okay?"

Hotch took a deep controlling breath, working to prevent another outburst. "Is everyone okay?" He held his breath, waiting for Rossi to respond.

"Yeah everyones fine Hotch, we are all here waiting for you. We got a case. You better get here."

He heard the familiar click as the call ended and let the phone fall from his hands, hitting the carpeted floor with a small thud. He couldn't hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He felt the warm salty liquid cascade down his face as he began to cry. But for the first time, in what felt like an eternity he was not mourning death.

Happiness was all he felt.

...

Hotch stepped off the evaluator feeling jovial. He walked from the lift, moving away from the crowd of people that hurled by the metal doors. Walking swiftly, he made his way towards the conference room. His team. His alive and unharmed team.

As he approached he heard the familiar voices of his colleagues, bits of friendly banter, gossip, and laughter escaping through the closed door. He smiled, swiping once again at hie eyes. He took a deep controlling breath, trying to convince himself that everything was okay. They were all fine. His family was alive.

He walked into the room then, pulling the oak door open in a swift movement. He met the faces of his team and couldn't help but feel something flutter inside him. The noise had stopped, they all looked at his still, but...unsteady expression, waiting.

"Hey Hotch," Emily called from the back of the room, gazing curiously at her superior. "Everything alright?" Hotch's attention turned to her. Alive. The beautiful dark haired woman, whom he held dear sat before him, an unaided grin resting on her calm, intelligent countenance.

He felt himself start to give into his emotions once again, but pushed the feelings away. What he had experienced, had not happened. The team was alive, living free of the horror his subconscious had forced him to bare witness. However.

His dream, his nightmare, was not a reality.

"Hotch?" Morgan asked carefully, upon seeing the Unit chiefs expression as well. He raised an eye brow. Still Hotch did not answer, but further gazed around the room. He saw JJ and Rossi perched on the couch, two mugs resting on the small wooden coffee table. He saw Garcia and Morgan sitting close in a friendly but playful way. He saw Emily, the young woman sitting calmly at the conference table.

And he saw Reid.

Reid looked at him, mimicking the others worried expressions. His light hazel eyes shone brightly with love and compassion as he gazed at his colleague with sincere worry.

Hotch didn't know how much time had passed, but it didn't matter. He soaked in the expressions of his team, focusing on each of their most defining features and embracing it. Taking in their essence to remember. He had lost them. In a twisted alter dream reality. And he had gotten them back. He would not lose them again.

Hotch brought himself out of his daze, finally breaking the unknowing silence with kind collected words, "Hey everyone. I apologize for being late. It's' just really great to see you all."

Morgan stepped forward and laughed, "Hotch I know I'm a good time, but man, we saw each other yesterday."

It felt like so much longer...

"I know, but it still is."

JJ jumped in, "We have a case." She smiled at him. "The team has already been briefed, and the jet has been contacted."

Hotch nodded. "How long?"

"Wheels up in 20," An unfamiliar voice responded. They all turned to see Erin Strauss standing in the door way, her expression cross. "They can brief you on the plane." Then before leaving she added, "May I have a word."

Before Hotch could leave, Rossi pulled him aside, worry still evident on his aged face. "Hotch? Are you sure everything is alright?"

Hotch looked at Rossi, happy to see his kind face again. He allowed his gaze to wonder to the other members before he finally turned back to him and responded. A smile pulled at the curves of his lips. "Yeah. Everything is just fine."

Rossi chuckled, "Well then you better get going." Rossi gestured to the agitated woman drumming impatiently on her desk in the next office. "Strauss is gonna give you hell."

...

The team filed on the plane and took there usual seats. JJ handed out the case files once again and waited for Hotch to arrive. When he did, he received one as well and the plane readied for take off. In due time they were in the air and they began to discuss the case.

"So we have an unsub that kills woman between the ages of 25-30." Prentiss began. She pulled the case file close to her face as she read. "There have been 7 victims so far in the last few months, and so far the only connection between them all is their physical appearance.

"Each woman has a small built, light skin, and has brunette hair." Reid added.

Hotch looked up then, confused, "What did you just say?"

"Every victim had a small built, light skin and is brunette." Reid repeated. He looked up at his superior curiously.

Hotch nodded and looked back down at the file in front of him, not actually reading it. His mind retreated to the memory of last night. His dream. Each victim was a brunette. It was similar to the case that his subconscious had created, but that was just by chance, right...

He pushed those thoughts aside, ignoring the unsteady feeling in his chest.

"...every week they were taken, but why on that specific day? Their locations have no connections and neither the times. Whats the significance of a Monday?"

"What?" Hotch snapped, making the team look at him. "Wait what about the victims? JJ repeat what you just said?"

JJ looked at her boss for a moment, but did as he had requested, "I said that every week a new victim was taken and we don't know why but all kidnappings have happened on a Monday..." She trailed off at the expression that took over Hotch's expression. His eyes widening, his mouth opening in pure shock.

His face no longer a mask of no emotions, but a light of clarity that shown his terror.

"Hotch?" Rossi asked. "Are you alright?" He seemed about to continue when the plane hit a slight bump and everyone was rocked in their seats.

Hotch felt his eyes well up as his heart seized, he clung to his seat fro dear life, shaking his head at the similarities between his memories.

No this wasn't happening. It couldn't be...

Prentiss began to speak but she was cut off by the screech of the over head speakers. To his horror, the man began speaking and Hotch knew the voice all too well. Mike. "We seem to be hitting some turbulence. Please remain in your seats, with your seatbelt fastened at this time." The speaker clicked off.

The plane continued to bump and lurch until finally it calmed, and the world ceased to shake.

"Everyone alright?" Someone called. Hotch didn't know who, as he became determined to know the truth. The turbulence had caused the files to scatter across the floor, and despite the pilots best advissons, Hotch unfastened his seatbelt and got out of his seat.

"Hotch what are you doing?!

Hotch ignored the person, determined. He pulled himself close to a lingering case file, snatching it as the plane once again began to buck and jolt. He clung to a near by seat with one arm as the other flipped sloppily through the file.

His mind raced. His heart was pounding. He couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his face.

"Hotch?!" He felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. He shrugged it off and kept tearing through the pages.

"Where is it, dammit!?" He screamed. The plan rocked and moaned as it was pelted with another wave of turbulence.

_This couldn't be happening..._

"Hotch what are you doing?!" Was that Reid?

He came to the last page of the file, but still didn't find what he was looking for. He looked round the cabin frantically, looking for the page that would change everything. He grabbed more papers that littered the floor and paged through them wildly.

He threw them aside when he couldn't find it and then grabbed more.

There. His heart almost seemed to stop, his breath catching in his throat.

He felt his body slump against the seat behind him, his mind went blank.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

He ignored the frantic screams of the team as his mind relayed the past.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

It was a dream, a nightmare. And yet...

It was.

He gazed back at the sheet he held crimped in his hand, reading the words once again.

**Location: Alaska**

The plane lurched as a defining scream erupted from the cockpit of the plane. He saw the black smoke begin to file beneath the door.

A dream.

Something that wasn't real, shouldn't have been.

He gazed back to his team, no longer bothering to hind his agony.

He would loose them, all of them.

But this time, it would be for real.

**A/N: The End**

**Hope you guys all enjoyed! this was the last chapter and it feels so weird, but also relieving that this is over. Seeing as this is the last time please review. Please tell me what you think. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this. Thank you!**

**Also if anyone is unhappy with this ending I have no problem writing an alternate, happier ending. Just shoot me a review.**

**Thank you once again for all who have followed this story. Much appreciated! Now that this is over I can give my full attention to a different one. If you want give it (Shadow of a Doubt)a shot, if not I'm hope you enjoyed.**

**THANK YOU**


	9. Second Chance

**Disclaimer: See my profile**

**Authors Note: **So it would seem that I'm a pretty awful person. Or at least I was in a pretty bad mood when I posted that last chapter. PHEW killing everyone does take a lot out of you. However, that was pretty horrible on my part. And considering how many people have given this story a chance, reviewing, favoriting/following, I must deliver a happier more fitting ending. Am I right?

**Previously: **The plane lurched as a defining scream erupted from the cockpit of the plane. He saw the black smoke begin to file beneath the door.A dream. Something that wasn't real, shouldn't have been. He gazed back to his team, no longer bothering to hind his would loose them, all of them. But this time, it would be for real. So this will begin as the other one, but as the chapter goes on devolve into what I hope you guys will enjoy.

Everything in italics is just a repeat of what was written in chapter nine. If you have already read the last chapter it would be easier to just skip to the new ending.

Please Enjoy.

_"It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped."-Tony Robbins_

...

_Hotch's body shot upright as a scream escaped his coarse lips. His eyes flew open, frantically searching his surroundings. He couldn't settle his beating heart, as it pounded against the inside of his chest threatening to burst free._

_His mind began to settle as his eyes adjusted and his gaze met the beam of light that was cascading from a window. An unbroken, blue framed window. His bed room window. He felt around himself, now realizing that his body lay on something soft and comfortable. His bed. His white knuckled fingers clutched the linen tightly._

_He released a breath, finally realizing that he had been holding it. The pounding in his chest began to subside. Aloud he said, his voice strange against the quietness, "Hayley?" He looked to his side to see the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. He took a few moments to watch her still form, working to get his mind to comprehend what was happening._

_What was going on? Was everything just a dream..._

_"Team!" Hotch yelled, his mind finally pulling more and more pieces together. What about the team? If he was here then that had to be alive? Maybe..._

_Hotch ripped the covers away and jumped from the comfort of his bed, his wife moaned softly in her sleep with the sudden movement. He raced down the stairs and grabbed his cell phone that he didn't remember leaving on the table. He hastily flipped it open and dialed the first number on the screen. Rossi. He waited impatiently as the phone rang._

_There was a click and a familiar voice answered, "Rossi. Who is this?"_

_"Rossi!" Hotch cried, his voice high with relief. Pure and utter happiness. "Your alive!"_

_"Hotch?" Is that you?" He questioned._

_"Yeah man, I'm so glad that your okay!" Hotch couldn't seem to control himself. He had never been so relieved in his entire life. If Rossi was alive, then the others had to be as well, right..._

_"Are you alright? You sound different and your late for work, really late. Is everything okay?"_

_Hotch took a deep controlling breath, working to prevent another outburst. "Is everyone okay?" He held his breath, waiting for Rossi to respond._

_"Yeah everyones fine Hotch, we are all here waiting for you. We got a case. You better get here."_

_He heard the familiar click as the call ended and let the phone fall from his hands, hitting the carpeted floor with a small thud. He couldn't hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He felt the warm salty liquid cascade down his face as he began to cry. But for the first time, in what felt like an eternity he was not mourning death._

_Happiness was all he felt._

_..._

_Hotch stepped off the evaluator feeling jovial. He walked from the lift, moving away from the crowd of people that hurled by the metal doors. Walking swiftly, he made his way towards the conference room. His team. His alive and unharmed team._

_As he approached he heard the familiar voices of his colleagues, bits of friendly banter, gossip, and laughter escaping through the closed door. He smiled, swiping once again at hie eyes. He took a deep controlling breath, trying to convince himself that everything was okay. They were all fine. His family was alive._

_He walked into the room then, pulling the oak door open in a swift movement. He met the faces of his team and couldn't help but feel something flutter inside him. The noise had stopped, they all looked at his still, but...unsteady expression, waiting._

_"Hey Hotch," Emily called from the back of the room, gazing curiously at her superior. "Everything alright?" Hotch's attention turned to her. Alive. The beautiful dark haired woman, whom he held dear sat before him, an unaided grin resting on her calm, intelligent countenance._

_He felt himself start to give into his emotions once again, but pushed the feelings away. What he had experienced, had not happened. The team was alive, living free of the horror his subconscious had forced him to bare witness. However._

_His dream, his nightmare, was not a reality._

_"Hotch?" Morgan asked carefully, upon seeing the Unit chiefs expression as well. He raised an eye brow. Still Hotch did not answer, but further gazed around the room. He saw JJ and Rossi perched on the couch, two mugs resting on the small wooden coffee table. He saw Garcia and Morgan sitting close in a friendly but playful way. He saw Emily, the young woman sitting calmly at the conference table._

_And he saw Reid._

_Reid looked at him, mimicking the others worried expressions. His light hazel eyes shone brightly with love and compassion as he gazed at his colleague with sincere worry._

_Hotch didn't know how much time had passed, but it didn't matter. He soaked in the expressions of his team, focusing on each of their most defining features and embracing it. Taking in their essence to remember. He had lost them. In a twisted alter dream reality. And he had gotten them back. He would not lose them again._

_Hotch brought himself out of his daze, finally breaking the unknowing silence with kind collected words, "Hey everyone. I apologize for being late. It's' just really great to see you all."_

_Morgan stepped forward and laughed, "Hotch I know I'm a good time, but man, we saw each other yesterday."_

_It felt like so much longer..._

_"I know, but it still is."_

[ALTERNATIVE ENGING]

No one said anything for awhile, allowing for the room to fill with an uncomfortable silence. The team stood uncomfortably, eyes low as they waited for their unit chief to do something, anything and stop gawking at the load of them.

Hotch couldn't be happier and he enjoyed this quit bliss with whole content, relishing the ongoing moments that gifted him time with his family.

Still he couldn't understand what was occurring. How was this even possible? It wasn't, was it? He tried to push those questions aside though as well as the memories of the horror he had been through, a horror that he questioned even happened.

He was with his family, and nothing would take this away from him again.

Finally JJ broke the silence. The team, with the exception of Hotch looked at her graciously, "We have a case, and the jet leaves in 10 minutes. We have to get moving."

The statement was more directed to Hotch then anyone else as the others had already been briefed and were waiting on him.

Hotch didn't seem to hear what she had said. A smile played on his lips as his eyes stared blindly in front of him, as if lost in a happy memory.

It seemed like hours before he said, "Let's go."

...

Morgan, JJ, Rossi and Emily were already seated on the jet. It was just Reid and Hotch who had yet to board. Their black SUV pulled up sluggishly and Hotch moved from the driver's seat. Reid from the passenger. The two agents grabbed their bags and began the trek to the plane loading docks. Hotch didn't seem to want to talk, and by no means did Reid want to provoke any conversation, so they made the journey in silence.

They reached the metal stairs that extended from the plane a little while later. Hotch walked up swiftly not taking the time to notice the similarities the jet had to that of his nightmare, if that was even what it had been. He failed to notice the pilots name tag as he passed him, or the elongated sweat stains that extended from under his arms. The creaking of the aircraft as he took carefree steps on it's unsteady floor.

He took a seat.

From outside the plane, Hotch was pulled from his oblivion when a loud noise sounded.

CRASH! A small yelp, followed by a string of curses.

"What the?" Morgan asked, his lips widening into a dopey grin. Emily tried to disguise a smile as a yawn.

Reid. What had he done this time?

Hotch moved from his seat and peered out the door to see the young lanky agent strewn across the metal steps in an unnatural surely painful position. Papers were strewn around his body. Hotch walked down the steps and stopped to where the young agent was not sitting, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand.

"Ohh..." He moaned, grimacing at the pain. It wasn't the first time the genius had taken a fall down a flight of stairs.

"You alright Reid?" Hotch asked, gathering some of the fallen papers. "What happened this time?"

"I, uh, my shoe caught on..." Reid began, but his words were lost on Hotch. The once so oblivious, contented agent's eye's widened as he caught sight of what was written on one of the papers. His heart nearly stopped.

Distantly, Hotch heard the disoriented chatter of Reid as he recounted the events leading to his clumsiness, the team's distant chatter and laughter in the background, the roar of the engines as the plane were prepped for take off. All these noises surrounded him, and yet he heard none of them.

His mind, his attention was focused solely on what he was reading.

These words. No...It couldn't be true. And yet...

**Location: Alaska**

Hotch had never shrieked louder in his life, "EVERYONE OFF THE PLANE!"

...

I hope this is better. It is not stated but the team do get off the jet and don't die so YAY! I hope everyone who has read, reviewed, followed/faved this story enjoyed the experience over all. I had a great time writing it, especially with much of the support I received. This is the end so come on guys shoot me a review! I would love some feedback! :)


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